


this could be

by j_gabrielle



Series: perhaps, this [2]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Husbands, Implied Future Mpreg?, Kissing, M/M, Wedding Day, i have no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 21:30:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13796736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: The ceremony went off without a hitch. T'Challa is immensely grateful for small mercies. As King, and as the Groom, he is expected to perform his duties; blessing his people in return for their well wishes. Erik, as the Royal Consort to the King, is expected to the same.Which he does. Admirably."I think you should rescue your husband from Great-Aunt Ada." Shuri hooks her arm around his elbow, leaning close. "He looks terrified." She says with unholy glee.[Sequel to'perhaps, perhaps, perhaps']





	this could be

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to take the time out to thank everyone who commented on and read the previous fic. I hope this one makes you smile x

The ceremony went off without a hitch. T'Challa is immensely grateful for small mercies. As King, and as the Groom, he is expected to perform his duties; blessing his people in return for their well wishes. Erik, as the Royal Consort to the King, is expected to the same.

Which he does. Admirably.

"I think you should rescue your husband from Great-Aunt Ada." Shuri hooks her arm around his elbow, leaning close. "He looks terrified." She says with unholy glee.

T'Challa watches the rigid line of Erik's body as the old lady grabs his arm and starts a rapid fire chatter. In the past six months it has taken them to organise the wedding, T'Challa has found himself increasingly familiar with Erik's minutest ticks. And so that rigid line of Erik's body does not mean discomfort, but more of uncertainty. Shuri sing-songs a 'get it!' when he pries her hand off him, smoothly cutting through the crowd to slide himself into the space next to Erik. The look of relief and gratitude on his face makes T'Challa smile, tilting his head to whisper into Erik's ear, "All right?" With his nose so close to his Consort's nape, the scent of his perfume and the warmth of his skin hits him like a blast shock.

"I'm fine. But thank you." Erik replies, slotting his body against T'Challa's. The beads in his hair brush against his cheek when he turns to engage Great-Aunt Ada in conversation.

Erik had been perfect throughout the day. He had not been lying when he said that he had been groomed for this. Every preparation for the day had been laid with care between him and the Queen Mother. T'Challa had been pleasantly surprised to see that some of his wishes for the day had been met as well. Grateful that he had not been foisted with wedding plans he was uncomfortable by.

But it made T'Challa wonder what would have happened to this man if everything had not gone to plan. He had been, up to the death of his father, completely unaware of the pact the late King had made with his childhood best friend. T'Challa had never given thought to the matter of marriage. Thinking that it something he could shelve for a later date, for a time that he never thought would befall him so soon.

As of late, the King finds that he cannot bear the thought of Erik being with anyone else other than him. Not when he fits so perfectly into the Erik shaped space in his life.

Bringing his hand to rest on Erik's hip, he squeezes it. Gratified to see Erik flushing under his touch. "Ah, to be young and in love." Ada teases, "I might be half blind, but even I can tell." She winks.

"Ada, we-"

The old lady reaches over to take their hands in hers, patting them. "I was married for a good 80 years. Arranged, just like yours. Take it from someone who has been where you are. Give it time, and meet each other in the middle. You might not think it will work, but it will." She leaves them in with a kiss to each of their cheeks.

"Well. That's certainly something." Erik breathes after a pause. T'Challa chuckles in agreement.

Turning over to arrange his husband's collar, he asks, "But tell me honestly, are you all right? It's been a long day and I am sure we can beg off anymore of the festivities if we wanted to."

Erik considers it for a moment, looking over his shoulder before reaching to brush his fingers over T'Challa's Kimoyo beads. "I think I could do with some air." He admits with a slump of his shoulders. Exhaling in a rush.

T'Challa wraps an arm around Erik's waist, guiding them through the gardens. "Follow me." 

"Where are you taking me?" Erik asks as they cross a small courtyard. T'Challa stops, looking past the curtain of creepers. 

"I want to show you something." 

Erik gasps in delight when he pushes past the vegetation, walking forth into an alcove. It is enclosed on all sides, but there is a bubbling fount in a corner by the stone bench under the shade of a young tree. T'Challa watches him as he reaches out to touch the flowers growing on the creepers, marvelling at the way they glow gold in the moonlight. "I wanted you to have a space you can go to if you ever need to be alone. You can make changes to it as you see fit. This is yours." He explains, "I wanted you to have this."

The man runs his fingers on the petals of the flower. "They told me you would be indifferent to me. They said that I just had to marry you and do my duty. Give you an heir and secure myself as your Consort." He lets his hand drop to his side, not facing T'Challa, "They told me not to expect anything from you."

"I wouldn't have been cruel to you. No matter how I felt."

"I know that now, of course I do!" Erik huffs, rubbing the side of his face with a hand. The act smudges the ceremonial paint on his cheek. "I just didn't think..."

T'Challa moves closer to him, reaching out to wipe the smudge into order. "What did you think?"

"That you would care." Erik finishes softly, warm eyes looking into his. "Thank you. For proving them wrong."

T'Challa sweeps his thumb under Erik's eye, gently stroking down the line of his jaw. "One day you will tell me who 'they' are, what 'they' told you about me. And I will endeavour to prove them all wrong."

Erik's eyelashes flutter, his breath hitching as he sways into the press of T'Challa's body. T'Challa catches his free arm around him. "You're not making this easy."

"I'm not making it easy?"

"Yeah." Erik sighs, bumping their noses together.

"What am," T'Challa says into their shared breathing space, lips touching in a prelude, "What am I making not easy for you?" 

There is a buzz in his head he cannot explain. The world narrowing to the way he can almost taste Erik on his tongue if he would just lick against the seam of his mouth. Erik's hands are gripping the back of his suit. It'll wrinkle. 

"You not making it easy to not fall in love with you." Erik admits. T'Challa surges them into a kiss. This is hardly his first, and he is sure it isn't Erik's either, but it is theirs. And oh, it feels like electricity striking his veins at the way Erik kisses him back. It is heady. T'Challa rapidly finds that he wants to keep doing this. To keep kissing his husband and never stop. 

Someone whines and there is a soft moan. Is it Erik? No matter. T'Challa swallows the sound up. He wants to catalogue this. Wants to map out every crevice, every dark hidden areas no one has ever bothered to find. He wants to take apart Erik with his kisses and be taken apart just the same. 

T'Challa runs his fingers through Erik's hair, tugging once, twice. A satisfied rumble coursing through him when Erik's breath stutters and his knees buckles forth, bringing them to fall onto the soft grassy ground. T'Challa laughs, rolling them over so that Erik is under him and he has his hips between the cradle of Erik's thighs.

He smiles stroking the stray braids away from his husband's face. "Wow." He says stupidly, ducking down for another series of kisses. Erik has his hands on either side of his head, nails scratching his scalp. Where his groin is pressed to Erik's, he can feel the beginnings of a hard on. Something that curls something dark and delicious in him.

"Wow." Erik returns happily, eyes dark and cheeks flushed with happiness. 

T'Challa chuckles, stealing more kisses. He feels like he just jumped out of a plane with no parachute, no gliders. He feels like flying. 

"I have been meaning to say something. But I had wanted to wait to see if you felt the same." T'Challa admits, taking one of Erik's hands and kissing it. A perfect mirror to when he asked to marry him. 

Erik's eyes turn impossibly soft with adoration, and he cannot quite believe that all that could have ever been just for him. "I do."

He cups his Consort's cheek, pulling him into another deep sharing of breaths and truths unsaid. Kissing down his jaw and down his neck, T'Challa unbuttons the first button of his shirt, pressing his kisses there to the base of Erik's throat. "They will know we just made out like teenagers." He hums.

"I'm surprised the Okoye has not sent a squadron looking for us."

T'Challa smiles. "She's probably watching us from a tree somewhere."

"Oh god. Please no." Erik sighs theatrically, covering his face with his hands. T'Challa guffaws, pulling them away to lavish Erik with more affection.

"You do realise that now that I have had a taste of your kisses, I'm never going to stop wanting them?"

"I'm hoping you won't. Stop, that is." Erik shifts his body on the ground, hair fanning out. The gold glow of the flowers crowns him. T'Challa does not think he has ever seen a more beautiful sight.

"Then I won't." He strokes a hand down the side of Erik's body, down to lift his leg and to bring his ankle up. The words bubble forth like the fount nearby, but T'Challa allows them to tumble forth into the air. "I want to worship you. Every inch of you. Kiss you until there is not an inch of you that does not know the shape of my mouth." Unclasping the buckle of Erik's sandal, he tugs it off.

"Don't! T'Challa, I haven't had a bath since before the ceremony." Erik gasps, frantic, "Please don't." 

T'Challa maintains eye contact when he tilts his head to press the barest of kisses on the jut of bone. Erik throws his head back, body arching, moaning. T'Challa relinquishes his hold on Erik's foot.

"T'Challa, T'Challa, please." Erik sobs, wrapping himself around T'Challa. Settling his arms in an embrace, he pulls them both upright. Kissing the tip of his Consort's ear, the side of his head, and everywhere he can, he carries him to their wing in the palace. 

He's going to make good on his desire to map every inch of Erik with his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand they totally had sex. 
> 
> I'm just too lazy to write it.
> 
> You can leave me some moodboard requests [Here](http://hardheartshere.tumblr.com/ask) or you can leave me some fic requests [Here](http://randomingoftherandomness.tumblr.com/ask)


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